“I think that was my best first kiss,” Annie said, and smiled at him. “It’s nice to know that there’s still potential for bests and firsts, isn’t it?” She pulled open the door to the hall with her free hand. The light poured in, soft and warm, and he let her other hand slip out from under his.The warm light, Keith thought.I want it all night. The warm light. Fight. Light. Might. It’s not love, but it might be. Right. It might be right.He slid by her, their bodies touching once more, and went back to his room to find a pen.
49
Monday, 1:15 a.m.
Deck 7
Sarah was doing her laps, making sure the crew was striking the theater, the production office, everything they would no longer need once theAmerican Fantasypulled back into Port Miami. The wind had gone, but the night was cool, which meant the difference between the inside and the outside was mostly a matter of humidity. Her phone beeped—what were regular working hours anyway?—and Sarah slid it out of her pocket.
Miss you, the text read, and then a photo of Mr. Whiskers popped up, stretched out on his pillow.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sarah said. She clicked out of the text and went straight to Instagram, to Lexie’s page. She hadn’t looked in two days—a record. All in all, it had been a month since they’d broken up. Almost long enough to get used to it. There weren’t any new pictures of Plum, but there were a few new posts. There was a picture of Mr. Whiskers sitting in the sunshine with the captionBetter days ahead. There was a picture of Lexie’s shadow in Prospect Park. One shadow—a shadow of one person. “Oh shit,” Sarah said out loud.“They broke up.” She looked up from her phone and pumped her fist. “They broke up!”
The fastest way to get to the production office without walking through the herds of drunk Talkers was to cut through the door behind the arcade and walk down the inner, staff-only hall. Sarah felt a little spring in her step, and she skipped into the arcade and turned the corner into the back of the room, where the door to the hall was.
Jonathan was leaning up against the door. Before anything else, before she really took in what was going on, Sarah’s tour-manager brain said:Fire hazard. But then she looked down and saw that Jonathan wasn’t alone. Tyler was kneeling in front of him, providing Jonathan with a kind of pleasure Sarah hadn’t seen all weekend. What was it with the arcade? Didn’t anyone have sex in their own rooms anymore?
“Oh, come on,” she said, covering her eyes with her hand. She heard a zip and the rustle of Tyler’s enormous jeans as he made his way back up to standing.
“Apologies,” Jonathan said. He hooked his finger into Tyler’s waistband and pulled him out of the room, past Sarah. “Do call me,” he said to her as he walked by.
“Oh, comeon!” Sarah said again. “I am his boss! This is so beyond fucked.” She pushed open the door to the hall, her boots clomping quickly through the doorway lest there be any bodily fluids nearby. She was going to do what she had to do, and then she was going to bed, because no one on this ship deservedher.
Day Five
Monday
Sunrise / Sunset:
6:58 a.M. / 6:29 p.M.
High / Low:
83°F / 72°F
Today’s Hi-Lites:
Debarkation! Safe Travels!
Daily Deal:
Boy Talk Merch Clearance Sale, 12 a.m.–5 a.m.—Deck 5
Airport Transportation Available at ExcursionsDesk
50
Monday, 6:04 a.m.
Deck 10
Five hours of sleep was fine. It was plenty. The crowd on the deck was thin. Most of the Talkers had gone back to their cabins to pack. Debarkation was early, and it was swift. TheAmerican Fantasycrew would start knocking on doors by 7 a.m. to make sure everyone was on their way out. There were always stragglers, a few hungover guests who were sleeping like the dead and would have to be helped along. A few bleary-eyed women were still out in their prom dresses, and Sarah watched as they swayed slightly, arms thrown around each other’s shoulders. Pancake had done his job. The ship was docked. The Cruise Terminal was just one gangway away, and with it, Florida and the rest of the mainland. The guys would be ready soon. Jonathan’s business card was poking her in the ass, and Sarah plucked it out and tossed it into the overflowing garbage cans next to the tiki bar.
“Okay!” Sarah said, clapping her hands. “Okay! Time to wrap this up! Don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!” It was true for her too. She needed a day off, she needed to consider her options for the future, she needed an ocean of iced coffee, she needed to sleep in a bed that wasn’t rocking back and forth, she needed to get her own cat,maybe. Sarah hadn’t written back to Lexie yet, but she had imagined the makeup sex, the groveling, the tearful apologies. Tyler was lying down in a lounge chair, a sweatshirt thrown over his eyes. Sarah clicked on her walkie-talkie. “Tyler, you’re fired.” She waited for him to slowly rouse himself, aware that something was amiss but too stupid to know what.
51
Monday, 6:11 a.m.
